


It Was a Simple Story

by FirebirdRising



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M, Some angsty, Some funny, accepting prompts, all types, prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2018-10-20 14:56:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirebirdRising/pseuds/FirebirdRising
Summary: "It was a simple story, about a boy who was lost, and a girl who was broken. They fought alongside a survivor, a war veteran, and a fallen knight. I led them into battle against an evil so terrible, it tried to black out the stars..."A series of unrelated fics preparing for the ending of this "simple story."Accepting Prompts. Ratings and warnings subject to change. I do not ownChapter 5: Rex asks Ahsoka about Vader.





	1. A Last-Minute Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: (send via an anon on tumblr) can u write one where zeb and kallus have a moment before battle?
> 
> My tumblr is embraceyourinnerbandgeek if you would rather submit prompts there.

The setting sun painted the sky red. Crimson spread like blood through veins- the stars bleeding. Was this, finally, how the story ended?

Kallus closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring as he took in a deep breath. He could almost taste the blaster fire that was sure to come, could detect without warning the Imperial troops racing to their location. This was the beginning of the end. This was the day of reckoning Ezra spoke of. The day that kept the rebellion awake at night.

Tonight, force willing, they would liberate Lothal. 

He sensed Garazeb before he heard him. “You ready?” the Lasat’s gruff voice was like gravel. Was he… unnerved, as well? Did he feel the metallic twinge in the atmosphere? Did he, too, feel he was going to die?

He was silent for too long, for Zeb’s hand clasped him on the shoulder. A tense moment passed, before finally: 

“I’m ready to watch Thrawn burn, if that’s what you mean,” Kallus confessed.

Zeb removed his hand and crossed his arms across his chest, quietly contemplating. Metal clicked. The man was armed to the teeth, his bo-rifle already in hand. “You know, I’m usually not the type for sentiments,” the Lasat started, a sarcastic smile blooming upon his face. “But since everyone else is doing it...”

Something small and full of regret bubbled in Kallus’s stomach before he realized the Lasat was joking. Instead of looming on his thoughts, he voiced the obvious. “Let me guess. Kanan and Hera?”

Zeb laughed, a deep, gravelly sound. Kallus found a corner of his mouth twitching upwards in response. 

Garazeb hoisted his bo-rifle over his broad shoulder. “They made up,” he explained. “ I thought attachments were against Jedi code, but… well, that ship has sailed,” Zeb shrugged. His green eyes flashed with something. Warmth? Relief? (Kallus mentally cursed how hard the rebel veteran was to read) “But, you see,” the Lasat continued uneasily, eyes flickering between the ground and the former Fulcrum’s face. “I…” he sighed.

The light in the sky had disappeared. A moment passed. Then another. Kallus found himself begin to walk away, his station waiting as the regret of what was about to happen weighted down on his chest. Then he heard it. So quiet it could have been the wind, yet...

“Thank you.”

Kallus turned back. The Lasat male gazed at him, nodded his head. 

Kallus’s stomach twisted. “Thank you?” he could feel his eyes narrowing. What did they have to thank him for? He was an imperial traitor on the run that had brought them nothing but misfortune since he abandoned the Empire. He-

He was shaking.

“Thank you,” Zeb repeated, stronger this time. His voice was no longer unsure. It was every inch the weapon he was. Kallus swallowed thickly. “Thank you for… everything.” 

And then the Lasat male did something Kallus never thought he’d see. Zeb took a hesitant step toward him. The night stilled. And then, carefully, as if testing whether or not he’d bite, Kallus was pulled into an embrace. 

The former Fulcrum- his sandy hair falling over his eyes, went stiff. Something hopeful filled his stomach as he began breathing once more.

With that embrace, the world ended, then began again, and for a moment, all was well.


	2. Flashback, Flashforward

There were a million stars that night. At least, Sabine assumed there were. Fires from the day’s battle were still burning. The smoke rose upward to the sky, blotting out even the moonlight. The young Mandalorian looked up still, waiting. 

“C’mon, Hera,” she breathed. Where was The Ghost? 

“She’ll be here.”

Sabine would have pulled the Darksaber, shaky as she was after battle, had she not come to expect Ezra’s entrances. She smirked at the tiniest hint of normalcy. Of course her family would be here. "When" was the question.

The two rebels stood on the deck of Ursa Wren’s estate. To their left, the marble stairs were covered in ash, causing several unsuspecting Mandalorians to slip as the climbed. They had just finished putting out the fire on the left side of the estate. Sabine sighed. Her mother would track her down soon enough. She just hoped Hera dropped off the supplies and left before she had to face Ursa. 

“How about you come back?” Ezra broke the silence. Sabine met his eyes. 

“To the Rebellion?”

Ezra nodded. 

Sabine shook her head. “I have to prove myself to my people,” she said under her breath. She hated the way the lie sounded on her tongue. 

Ezra was quiet after that, yet remained looking at her. Sabine averted her gaze. It made her uneasy, how his eyes turned golden in the firelight. She ran a hand through her hair… what color was it now? Or was it brown again? She couldn’t remember the last time she dyed it. 

Force, she thought. A scowl contorted her features. What’s happening to me?

Ezra put a hand on her shoulder and said, as if to comfort her, “We’ve come a long way.”

Sabine shrugged. “Us?” she questioned. She knocked against his shoulders. “You don’t look a day older than ten,” she teased. 

“Hey!” the young Jedi was clearly offended. 

“Calm down,” she stopped the punch to her shoulder with her palm. “I know what you mean.”

“You do?” 

She did, she guessed. They had come far. Two misfit children, exiled for different reasons from different places, had found where they belonged. Sabine smiled a sad smile. She remembered her younger self- a blue-haired girl in Hera’s arms- loved for the first time in her life. 

She turned to Ezra, wrapped an arm around his waist as she’d done a million times with her blood brother. “I want to come back,” she confessed. “More than anything. But I can’t.”

Ezra nodded in understanding. He snaked his arm around her armoured shoulders. “You already know what I’m going to say, don’t you?” His face was hopeless. Sabine’s stomach rolled. She hated this part. 

“We’re not going to die, Ezra.”

“Yeah,” he protested. “We are.”

A small part of her knew he was right.


	3. Pride

He honestly didn’t think they’d get this far. 

Sure, Kanan assumed they would get to liberating Lothal eventually. He just didn't think he’d be around to see it. His luck was bound to run out at some point, anyway. 

Kanan walked the hallways of their Yavin 4 base in a haze. His eyes were useless, but the force told him when someone passed him. He would clap the rebel pilots on the shoulder, exchange a few words with those who were particularly anxious. 

He was fine until one of the pilots- a rookie they had recruited just days prior, whispered the phrase like a prayer under his breath. 

“May the force be with you, Master Jedi.” 

Kanan had stopped mid-stride. The rookie continued walking, unphased. 

Master Jedi. What he could have been. The phrase, which had been uttered to him time and time again. Kanan felt for his lightsaber. 

“Kanan?”

Ezra’s voice echoed in the hallway. The pilots had ceased their travels through the building, most likely in their fighters by now. 

“Ezra,” he greeted, turning around. His authoritative voice was coated with the ray of warmth he saved for his family. “Are you okay?”

A beat of silence. A fist in the boy’s stomach. 

Ezra leaned against the wall. He ran his young yet calloused hands through his short-cropped hair. “Kanan,” he began. “Do you… do you….”

 

There it was. That neverending pain that came with the loss of a family. Kanan closed his eyes, remembering his masters as clearly as Order 66 itself. He remembered their blood. Their screams. Their shouted please of “RUN.”

He shook the image away.

He would not dwell on the past. Instead, he placed a strong hand on his padawan’s shoulder. “Do you....?”

The muscles in Ezra’s neck flexed. He was looking at his master’s hand. 

“Do you think they’re watching?”

Kanan’s heart skipped a beat. It never got any easier. “Your parents?” 

The boy nodded. 

There wasn’t even a beat before, “Yes.” 

 

The answer was so sure- so exact. But so strong that no doubt remained.

Kanan placed his other hand on Ezra’s shoulder, gave him a shake for emphasis. “They would be proud.”

Ezra sucked in a breath. He pulled away in one fluid motion. Anger flared up in his force signature, then disappeared as if it had never even existed. 

“Ezra-”

“How do you know?” 

His padawan’s voice broke as he asked the question he needed the answer to. 

Kanan opened his mouth to speak, but found he couldn’t. An image appeared in his mind, of a teenage boy on Lothal with messy hair and a survival instinct. 

Where had the time gone?

He remembered their first lesson together. He recalled the joy in Hera’s eyes the first time they’d heard him laugh. He saw the picture of his family he kept tucked away. Kanan felt the weight of the boy in his arms, the promise of protection slipping through his thoughts as he held him. 

Kanan reached out for the boy- the boy, who was soon to be a man- again. He had to reach up farther than he anticipated to touch his shoulder. 

Kriff, when had he gotten so tall? 

“They’re proud of you.” he assured him. His blind eyes must have been watering. “They’re proud of you. And so am I.”

It didn’t matter if Kanan’s luck finally ran out today. It didn’t matter what happened. He’d found family after Order 66. In Hera, his lover. In Zeb, his friend. In Sabine, his daughter…. And in Ezra, his son. 

What was the importance of what he could have been… When what he was was so much greater? 

Ezra took a step closer. Then another. Then another, until his arms were around his Master’s waist. 

Let the Jedi rule of attachments burn. 

“Thank you, Kanan.”

The Jedi Knight- weary, loved, and ready to go down- embraced the boy back. “No,” he countered. “Thank you.”


	4. Crowded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kallus moves in. OR, how many people Hera can fit in one room.

“So… make yourself at home.”

 

The young Jedi was awkward. Kallus couldn’t say he blamed him. It wasn’t everyday you move in with a former Imperial. 

The room was rather bare: a set of bunk beds were built into the ceiling. A starbird was painted on the wall. Beneath the artwork was a table with helmets, a half-eaten waffle, and some miscellaneous parts. 

“Move!”

Kallus jumped out of the way of Zeb, who had previously been holding a cot above his head. The Lasat male sat down the makeshift bed across from the bunks. The room had become that much smaller. 

For a moment, the three males simply stood and stared at their new sleeping arrangements. A moment passed. Then another. Then another. Finally, Kallus got sick of the fidgeting. 

“I… apologize,” he sad slowly. 

Ezra and Zeb simply shrugged. 

“Rex’s bunked with us a few times,” Zeb shrugged. “It won’t be much different.”

“I’m staying here permanently,” Kallus countered. “What are we going to do when Rex joins us on missions?”

At that, Ezra and Zeb looked at each other. 

The ghost was filling up rather quickly. Sabine had returned just a few hours prior. She had kicked Kallus out of her paint-infested room first thing. It did not help that Ahsoka, though a valuable asset, had returned from the dead and was inhabiting the cot in the supply room. 

Kallus had suggested that he could move in with Kanan before he was told that the Jedi and Hera shared a room. (“Two beds,” Hera was quick to say, though Ezra replied with the fact that no one had ever been in their room to confirm or deny this claim). 

“Ezra will sleep on the floor,” Zeb said finally, earning a look of pure hatred from the boy. 

Kallus sighed. This would be a long, trying existence. 

\-----

Zeb snored. 

Kallus laid awake on his cot, Ezra sitting up across from him. 

“Does this happen often,” Kallus asked carefully. He was walking on eggshells, he knew. Neither of his bunkmates were too happy to be sharing their already miniscule quarters. 

Ezra hit his elbow on the bunk above him hard. Zeb didn’t even flinch in his sleep. 

“Yeah,” Ezra told him. “Every night.”

The young Jedi laid back down and crushed the pillow over his head. 

\----

“You’ll get used to it,” Rex said the next night. The had picked up the clone from Yavin around midday. As prophesied, Ezra was now sleeping on the floor. 

(The padawan muttered that no, he would not get used to it. Rex took the opportunity to spout his “back in the Clone Wars…” stories. Apparently he’d slept on the back of a rabid bantha in the snow.) 

Rex talked long into the night. Kallus stayed up to listen.

\---

Force nightmares were a thing. 

This was something Kallus learned on his third night on the Ghost. (He was now certain that he would never get a good night’s sleep again.) 

The three other men all dealt with the nightmare in their own ways. Zeb threw a pillow at the boy in effort to wake him up, Rex took the shaking approach, and Kallus flat-out screamed as the force-activated lightsaber came hurdling in his direction.  
\----  
When an injured Wedge joined their ragtag room on the way back to Yavin, Kallus demoted himself to the floor. 

\----

They had to save Saw Gerrera from certain death around the same time they did wedge.

(“Are you kidding me?” Zeb muttered under his breath.) 

Ezra crawled into Zeb’s bunk, a blanket hanging between the two. 

\---

When Kanan got into a fight with Hera the next night, they locked the door. 

There wasn't any more room on the floor, after all.


	5. Of Time Gone By

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rex asks Ahsoka who Vader truly is.

The Rebellion was not a quiet place. It never had been, really. Since its ragtag beginnings, there was always something to investigate. Always some race of people threatened, or, at the best of times, some victory being celebrated.

Tonight, they gathered together and confirmed that they had indeed survived another year. Ahsoka joined in on the camarade the best she could with her arm in a sling. She ignored the pain shooting up her limb, reminding herself that she’d had worse. She would then dance with whoever asked, and laughed with whoever told a joke.

It was times like this when she missed her master the most. Back in the Clone Wars, they were happy. The galaxy was at war, and yet there was so much light in her life that it’d lasted her for years on her own.

Order 66 had taken so much. Family, light, _lives_ -

“You still make that face.”

 _That_ face.

Ahsoka smiled at Rex’s familiar voice, at the gentle hand that perched on her shoulder.

“I picked it up from my Master.”

Rex nodded sadly. “I know, Little One.”

A beat passed between them, in which they simply stood and watched the party unfold. In the near distance, a plume of smoke rose into the sky. Around it stood an assemblage of rebels. Among them were Ezra, now as masterless as she was.

“How’s he doing?” Ahsoka asked her old friend. She remembered the days after Order 66, when she assumed Anakin had been massacred with the rest of the Jedi Order. The emptiness that had flooded her soul had been suffocating.

Rex shifted, took his hand off her shoulder to point in the direction of the sunken Lothal temple. “A wolf- he said it was Kanan- allowed him to let go.”

Ahsoka inclined her head to look at the clone.

“I don’t pretend to know much about the Force,” Rex confessed. He dropped his arm and looked her in the eye. “But I do believe that Kanan was there.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly, the glint of the sunlight catching the hilt of her lightsaber and reflecting off her face.

A tricky, fickle thing. The Force was a harsh mistress.

A dark mask flashed across her vision.

Ahsoka closed her eyes against it, willing it to stay away.

_I won’t leave you. Not this time._

Ahsoka had stated in that moment that she was not a Jedi. No- she was not a Jedi knight, nor a padawan. In truth, she was not allegiant or belonging to any specific group. She’d become what she’d assumed Master Obi Wan had, assuming he’d survived this long. Ahsoka was a leaf in the wind: following where the Force took her, if it took her anywhere at all.

It had led her to the Rebellion twice, it seemed. She figured she would last long enough for a third time.

Anakin- no, _Vader_ \- was bound to figure out she’d survived before long.

And Rex.

Rex had no idea what had occured on Malachor. What she had confirmed.

Ahsoka looked at the aging clone and wondered as he stared back- did he suspect? Did the haunted look in his eye double as a reminder of the betrayal of a brother?

A beat. The laughter of the party faded as the sun sank into the horizon.

“What happened, Ahsoka?” Rex finally spoke, as if sensing the question in her mind.

His voice was softer- almost tediously testing the waters that was her years-long disappearance.

Ahsoka shifted. What could she say? The clone had suffered so much already. Kanan’s death still hung heavy in the air.

“Too much,” she told him, finally.

“They told me you met Vader.”

A slow nod of Ahsoka’s head.

“And that you’d recognized him.”

Another nod.

Rex’s hand once again found its perch on her shoulder. There was a gentle squeeze as he asked, almost painfully, “Who is Vader, Ahsoka?”

The pink sky was slowly fading to purple- the purple of Master Windu’s lightsaber, the first victim of the Jedi massacre.

The former padawan, who had loved and been loved, who had fought and been fought, and who had hidden and been found, finally broke. Tears she’d held back for years now streamed freely down her tired face. The old clone wrapped his arm around her shoulder- a comfort that would not last.

She wouldn’t say it, she wouldn’t say it, she wouldn’t say it-

_She had to._

“ _Anakin_.”

Rex went stiff.

“ _No_ ,” was all he muttered, closing his eyes.

Ahsoka broke free of his grasp then to examine his face- the face of the mentor that had weathered one of the worst storms the galaxy had ever faced. She wondered if he could stand to look at himself at night- if the person in the mirror was Rex himself or one of his fallen brothers.

“He’s gone, Rex,” Ahsoka finally said it- to him and to herself. “Vader killed my master.”

The old clone took in a deep breath. One of his hands had come up to cover his face.

_I’m sorry._

Ahsoka sat down at his feet, held her injured arm, and wept.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Leave a review, or leave a prompt if you would like.


End file.
